


Lights that Blind us

by BlazingStarInInkyBlackness



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mildly Dubious Consent, Prostitution, overly extended bird metaphor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:20:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22518403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlazingStarInInkyBlackness/pseuds/BlazingStarInInkyBlackness
Summary: Molly has a job. He's fine. Of course he's fine. Because if he wasn't fine... well, that would mean chaos.(Drabble on Molly as a prostitute)
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf & Yasha
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Lights that Blind us

**Author's Note:**

> This is set pre series/ first episode from someone who has not watched more than the first ten episodes of campaign 2 so there will obviously be no spoilers beyond that  
> There is no rape but Molly is not exactly enjoying what is happening so tread carefully if that triggers you

Everyone at the circus had their role. Yasha was the protector, the twins were an act, enticing and bringing in the coins, Urma was the second who itched to lead, Mollymauk was the star attraction. Of course that was kept hidden, kept subtle. When you travelled in the areas they did it was better for him to go around with his cards on display, his swords out and Yasha beside him. It was better not to talk about the special tent they always set up far in the back or the scars he seemed to accumulate.

Yasha was good at the aftercare, at taking Molly when he was beaten and broken and gently holding him as he tried not to scream as his wounds stitched themselves together. The next day he’d put on more pretty clothes, decorate his body, make it his own, drive ink deep into his purple skin and shove metal through his ears and eyebrows. It let him meet his eyes at night, let him ignore the hickies and the bruises that crept across him. He wasn’t that, he wasn’t what they said, what they did. He was the beautiful peacock, the man people watched, stared after, he was a creature of desire, of freedom, of lust and want.

In the night he wondered about peacocks a lot. Most people don’t realise that peacocks can fly, their wings are functional, they can fly away at any time but they stay, either because they’re too well trained to leave the nest or because their wings were clipped, feathers thrown to the side as they’re shorn through.

In the morning as he gently applies a soothing lotion to his knees and avoids the gaze of the people he considers family he wonders what happened to him. Were his wings clipped without him noticing? Was he mauled to allow this desecration every night? A pile of gold for his dignity, for his pride. Or maybe his wings were fine and he was too shit scared to try to leave.

Yasha was a pillar beside him on those days, a woman who knew far too much about broken wings and she held him away from the stresses and fears, made an excuse for the awkward limp and soothed down his matted hair. If he was capable of love she’d own his heart.

But he was a demon, an infernal creature worthless for anything other than the job he’d been given. The clients told him that and the way his family looked the other way reminded him. He was Mollymauk Tealeaf, entertainer extraordinaire.

When he came across the group of travellers he was surprised at the hope that bubbled in his chest, he thought he’d crushed that stupid little emotion out so long ago. But it planted itself like a weed and, despite his best efforts, it began to grow.

And Mollymauk felt his wings spread.


End file.
